Chapter Three
It had been more almost two centuries, but the thought of Gorin still had the power to send a shaft of cold terror through Olivia. She started to rake a hand through her hair, then realized it was shaking and curled it into a fist. “Maybe it wasn’t him. But few among the Sidhe have that hair and eye color combination. And yeah, I could see him hiring werewolves instead of taking you on himself.”
She took a deep breath. “And after the werewolves ran off, I thought I sensed his magic.”
“Why didn’t you mention that before now?”
“Because it vanished so fast, I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing.” She shrugged. “But given you have history with him too, that raises the probability that he’s our man. Though there’s still a lot about this that makes no sense. I don’t understand why he’d kidnap me and put me on that bench for you to find. Maybe I was bait for his werewolf trap, but why let me regain my powers and help you fight them off?” Olivia shook her head. “It just doesn’t add up.”
But if it was him, whispered a deadly voice in the back of her brain, maybe I’ll finally get a chance at revenge. She gave her host a long look. Gorin had run from Rhys. She’d never heard of the Royal Assassin running from anybody or anything.
Gorin had starred in her bloodiest revenge fantasies for two centuries, but she’d always known they were nothing more than fantasy. He was simply too powerful, with almost a thousand years of combat experience and the kind of magical ability that had once made him Ansgar’s favorite killer.
If she ever tried to kill Gorin, really tried, odds were high that the only one who’d end up dead was Olivia herself. There’d been times when she longed for that death, but two hundred years had eroded her craving for self-destruction. Despite her bitter losses, life still held some pleasures. And there was no guarantee she could kill the Royal Assassin even if she destroyed herself in the process.
But Gorin had run from Rhys.
She looked at the big man, contemplating the energy that roiled around him. She wasn’t surprised the assassin had taken to his heels. Even Ansgar himself hadn’t possessed so much raw power.
But what was Rhys, if not Sidhe? There were any number of magical creatures in the Mageverse that could take human form—everything from dragons to unicorns. Yet he apparently considered himself human. Surely if he was some sort of shape-shifter, he’d know it.
Unless he was lying.
It was possible, but she just didn’t think so. The offense in his eyes when she’d suggested his parents weren’t really his parents looked utterly sincere.
Too, there was a certain old-fashioned decency to Rhys that suggested he would consider casual lies beneath him. It was a rare quality—not just in twenty-first century men, but in Ansgar’s court, where sword-wearing noblemen boasted of their honor. Honor that had been more hot air than reality.
Except for Coln.
Like her husband, honor meant something to Rhys. Enough that it drove him to risk his life to save a child from a vicious killer, or help Olivia take on a team of werewolves.
“So, what’s the name of the son of a bitch who hurt you?” There was a savage gleam in Rhys’s eyes she found oddly warming.
“Gorin. He was the Royal Assassin.”
“Ever heard of a ring he’d kill for?”
Olivia snorted. “Gorin would have killed that child over the prize in a Cracker Jack box. Did you ever find out the boy’s name?”
“Jimmy Myers. When I called the police, they were able to identify the body because he’d been in the foster care system. Apparently, his birth mother was a drug addict who’d abused him.” Rhys shook his head. “Kid never caught a break his entire life.”
To endure such abuse, only to die at the hands of a man who viewed torture as an evening’s entertainment . . .
A thought struck her. “You called the police?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Good thing that child wasn’t Sidhe. Mortals don’t know anything about us, and we need to keep it that way. There aren’t a lot of my people that live on this Earth, and the last thing we need is for the authorities to get any idea we exist. It would put all of us in danger.”
“Didn’t seem to worry Gorin. He certainly didn’t hesitate to torture Jimmy to death.”
“I’m sure he thought even if the police caught him red-handed, he could use a compulsion to force them to forget he’d ever existed.”
“He could do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Wonder why he didn’t try it on me?”
“He probably did. Given your power, I’ll bet you didn’t even notice.”
“So he didn’t even have to hurt Jimmy to get his fucking ring back. Poor kid. The detective told me Jimmy’s last set of foster parents had been in the habit of abusing him as badly as his mother had. Apparently he started supporting himself with breaking and entering. The cops thought he’d finally hit the wrong house.”
“The cops are probably right. I’m surprised they didn’t suspect you, given that you reported the crime.”
“They did, but the coroner found it had taken the killer an hour to torture that child. I could prove I’d been at the club until fifteen minutes before I called it in. Besides, I passed a polygraph.”
“You know,” Olivia pointed out, “you could have avoided any questions at all just by walking away. Jimmy would have been found sooner or later.”
“Maybe, but I’d hoped he had a family who was worried about him, and I wanted them to know what happened as soon as possible.” His eyes hardened. “And I was hoping the cops would find the bastard and make him pay.”
Another dark little jolt of excitement ran through her. Yeah, she was willing to bet Rhys would help her. But was she ready to fight Gorin? How great a price would she and Rhys pay for her revenge?
And did she have a right to ask it of him?
“You think Gorin’s the one who’s behind this?”
Rhys paused to pour himself another glass of wine and take a thoughtful sip. “Maybe. I’ve encountered other people with power, but they always seem to take one look at me and run like hell in the other direction. They’d vanish around a corner or something, and by the time I’d catch up, they’d be gone. I don’t know if they cast invisibility spells or what.”
“You’d probably be able to see through a spell. More likely they created a dimensional gate, just as Gorin did.”
“Can you create one of these gates?”
“Well, yeah. How do you think I got on to this Earth to begin with?” She paused, wondering how he’d take what she was about to say. “You must have gotten here the same way.”
Rhys stiffened. “What?”
“You can’t be native to this planet. As I said, anyone who uses magic must draw on the Mageverse to do it. Since there’s no magic here, humans who evolved here can’t use it.” Not without Merlin’s help, anyway—a caveat that would confuse the situation too much to mention. Rhys wasn’t Magekind or Direkind, so it wasn’t a relevant point anyway.
“But the Sidhe can?”
“Yes, because we evolved there and humans evolved here.”
“And you get here by opening dimensional gates.”
“Pretty much.”
Rhys nibbled his lower lip thoughtfully. Olivia stirred uncomfortably. She wanted to taste that lip herself.
Maybe I’ve had too much wine. She put her glass down on the end table with a clink. When she turned back, she saw Rhys watching her, a hint of male interest in his eyes. Olivia knew better, but she found herself staring back at him anyway. The interest flared into outright heat.
They both looked away at the same time.
“My parents have talked about my birth at length,” Rhys said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Hell, I grew up hearing about how close my mother came to losing me. That doesn’t add up to ‘you’re adopted’ to me.”
Which was a damned good point. “Did they shoot any delivery room video?” Modern humans shot video of the damnedest things, including natural disasters. “Because that would pretty much kill the adoption theory.”
“No, because the fetal monitor wasn’t picking up my heartbeat, and the doctor believed I was going to be stillborn. My dad wasn’t even in the delivery room.” He smiled slightly. “They were all astonished when I emerged howling my healthy little lungs out. Mom called me ‘the Miracle Kid’ all through my childhood. It got a little embarrassing.” But judging from the affectionate light in his eyes, he’d never really minded all that much.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
The smile faded. “No, Mom had to have a hysterectomy after I was born. I was a pretty big baby, and giving birth to me did some nasty damage to her uterus that caused her to hemorrhage. Then there was an infection after that, and . . .” He shrugged.
Olivia frowned, biting her lip. “That definitely sounds like you weren’t adopted, but it still leaves the question of your abilities. Maybe your folks are from the Mageverse.”
Rhys shot her a dry look. “Mom was a high school science teacher before she retired, and my father is a carpenter. Neither of them has magical abilities. They were flabbergasted when I started doing magic.”
“Hmmm.” She started to sip her wine, then realized the glass was empty. He leaned over and filled it for her. The hand holding the bottle looked intriguingly large, with oddly fascinating scars. He must do a lot more manual labor than your average Porsche driver . . .
Olivia dragged her gaze away and drank a little more wine than was probably wise.
He made an impatient sound. “Okay, I think that train of thought just derailed. Let’s backtrack to you and whoever put you on that bench. You said you were under a geas?”
“Yes. I couldn’t move at all until you arrived. Couldn’t use my powers either, no matter how I tried to break the spell.”
Rhys contemplated her, cool suspicion growing in his eyes again. “And yet you were able to conjure armor and swords for both of us.”
Olivia shrugged. “When I saw that wolf charging you, it felt like the spell sort of . . . popped. I haven’t been so relieved to use magic in my life.”
“It definitely saved our collective behinds.” He took another sip from his glass. His other hand draped over one knee, tendons working as he drummed his fingers on his kneecap.
Olivia found herself longing to feel the slide and roll of the tendons, the warmth of the skin. Were his palms callused? How would it feel if he touched her?
The craving to touch him, to explore all that powerful muscle made her heart beat faster. She’d spent too many years as a Sidhe alone among humans, pretending to be something wasn’t. Unable to reveal who and what she really was.
I don’t have to hide with him. He’s in the same boat I am.
But this isn’t the time. I’m being targeted, maybe by Gorin, maybe by somebody else. Either way, I can’t afford to get distracted. She dragged her eyes away from that big, tempting body. Fought to control her need.
“If our bad guy intended to use you as bait,” Rhys said slowly, “why give you your power back? They could’ve kept you paralyzed while those guys killed us both.” He made an impatient noise. “But like you said, it doesn’t make any sense that you’d be working with them, especially given that you killed that wolf to save me.” His amber eyes focused on her, intent and cool. “I need to know if I’m right to trust you.”
Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but he leaned forward and caught her jaw in one big hand. She froze as the sensation of warm, rough skin made her arousal surge yet again.
Then his magic hit in a tingling rush. With a gasp of alarm, she tried to shield, but his power blew right through her hasty barriers as if they were tissue paper.
They were nose to nose. Close enough to kiss.
His amber eyes changed color in a flash, the irises going a bright, piercing gold as the pupils shrank to pinpricks. It wasn’t a human gaze at all. He spoke, his voice resonant and deep. “Are you working with them?”
“No.” He’s put me under a geas! Betrayed anger made her grit her teeth. And she’d just been thinking how much she wanted him! Idiot!
“Do you know who did this? Do you know who’s trying to kill me?”
In her anger, she fought not to answer. The answers poured from her lips anyway. “I have no idea what’s happening or why. I don’t know who cast the geas on me, and I don’t know why anyone would do it to me or why anyone would want you dead.”
“Why are you cooperating with me?”
“Gorin killed my husband and son for King Ansgar. I’ve dreamed of killing him for centuries. You have the power to help me avenge them.”
His hand dropped away from her face, and the compulsion broke.
Olivia jumped off the couch and backed across the room until her shoulders hit the fireplace mantle. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
Seeing something glowing in her peripheral vision, she realized a fireball floated over her right hand. She banished it, knowing bitterly she didn’t have a prayer against Rhys in a fight.
But instead of attacking her, Rhys sank back into the couch, his hands falling loose in his lap. He looked shamed, almost defeated. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I had to know if you were telling me the truth.”
“You could’ve trusted me—the way I’m going to have to trust you, because I can’t put you under a geas.” Her voice sounded more than a little bitter. “I don’t have the power.”
Amber eyes met hers. “If you want to try, I won’t stop you.”
“That would be an incredibly fucking stupid thing to do.”
His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“That’s not what I mean. If you dropped your psychic shields to me, I could plant whatever compulsion I wanted on you, including one to make you blow your own head off.”
“Would you?”
“If you ever try a stunt like that again, I just might.”
He looked away, a grim set to his jaw. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.” She sighed and raked her hand through her hair. “But I understand why you did. We’re strangers. Trusting is always a risk.” And I wouldn’t be so pissed if I weren’t so attracted to you. But I need you, so I’m going to have to suck it up.
If there was one thing she’d learned over centuries of ruthless survival, it was that you couldn’t let emotion get in the way.
She walked back to the couch, conscious of Rhys’s wary gaze, and sat down next to him.
He gave her a long look, then refilled her wineglass. “Gorin killed your family?” The question came soft and low. “Why?”
She took a sip. “I said no when I should’ve said yes.”
“This was when Ansgar wouldn’t take no for an answer?”
“Yeah. If I had it to do over again, I’d sleep with him. He would’ve gotten tired of me in one night, maybe a week at most. He was only interested because everyone knew how much I loved my husband.” She sipped the wine, but it tasted bitter now. “Apparently he had a bet going with some of his toadies. I made him lose it.”
A muscle rolled in Rhys’s jaw. “And so he killed your family.”
“Each and every one of them—including my parents and little sister.” She drained the glass in one swallow, barely tasting it. “Look, can we talk about something else?”
Compassion softening his gaze, he nodded. “Of course. It sounds as if the only connection between the two of us is this Gorin. That suggests he’s the guilty party. Or at least a guilty party.”
“But it’s been two hundred years since he killed my family. I thought he’d given up chasing me a century ago. Hell, it’s surprising he kept after me that long. Besides, Ansgar’s been dead for a decade. Why come after me now?”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“Maybe. Or it could be some other Sidhe is involved.”
“That’s possible.” He made a thoughtful sound. “Either way, I have a feeling there’s a big piece of this puzzle missing.”
“Yeah, whoever cast that geas. He or she arranged me on that bench like bait. You show up, then they attack us. But why turn me loose and let me help you?”
“Is it possible you just broke the compulsion?”
Olivia shook her head. “I doubt it. I’d been working on that spell for half an hour, but I hadn’t been able to put a dent in it.”
“Maybe you just wore through it.”
She considered that a moment. “Or . . . sometimes we work magic unconsciously just by wanting something badly enough. You needed my help, so your magic snapped the compulsion. I can believe it—you do radiate a lot of juice.”
“I . . . guess that’s possible. I didn’t do it deliberately. But if you were there as bait, how did your kidnapper know I was going to come by? Or that I’d get out to help?”
“Maybe my attacker had a vision. How did you happen by, anyway?”
“I’d been out for drinks with friends at Touchdown.” When he saw she didn’t know what he meant, he added, “It’s a sports bar on Main.”
A thought struck her. “What if we’re dealing with two separate groups: one trying to kill you, the other one trying to keep you alive? Maybe the werewolves were following you, hoping to catch you alone somewhere so they could kill you.”
He lifted a skeptical brow. “And some third party put you on that bench to save my ass?”
“But why go to the trouble? Why not just call you and say ‘Hey, there’s a team of werewolves planning to kill you. Watch out.’”
“You’re assuming I’d believe a phone call like that.”
“Rhys, you work magic.”
“Okay, yeah.”
Olivia looked up as a new and unpleasant thought occurred to her. “Do you have any wards around this house? I mean, it’s logical to believe that if the wolves have been following you, they know where you live.”
“In that case, why not just ambush me here?” He considered what she’d said. “By wards, you mean a spell to repel bad guys, right?”
“That, or to alert you they’re there.”
“But if werewolves are immune to magic, would it even work?”
“Depends on the ward. Yes, werewolves are immune to direct magical attacks, but you can use magical forces to create natural ones, like electrical fields. So you could create wards that are keyed to react to anything magical and pop them with a lightning bolt. Zap! No more werewolves.”
He grunted. “Or no more innocent magician who triggers it by mistake.”
“Not if you just set the ward to alert you if something magical tries to get through.”
“That sounds better, but I’ve never created a ward of any kind. I have no idea how to go about it.”
“I do. Assuming you don’t object.”
He lifted a brow, intrigued. “Be my guest. I’d like to see how you do it.”
Olivia rose and walked to the nearest wall to spread one hand against the cool, smooth surface. Closing her eyes, she sent out a bolt of magic and felt it zing all the way around the house until it shot back into her palm again. It was an old spell she’d been using so long, she could cast it on autopilot.
Dropping her hand, she gave him a smile. “Instant ward.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “So I see. I think can do that. Mind if I explore that spell?”
“Sure.”
Joining her, Rhys extended a hand and brushed his fingers over the wall. Olivia caught her breath at the swirl of his magic testing hers. Her nipples tightened, drawing into hard peaks, as if the contact was a lot more sensual.
Oh, come on, she told her libido. Not again. This is getting ridiculous.
He stroked a hand down the wall, his amber eyes absorbed, intense.
Maybe the ridiculous thing was thinking she could resist him.
Olivia found herself longing to lean in and kiss him. And why not? asked a soft mental voice. It had been long, empty years since she’d touched a man.
Once, passion had been the only time she could find any relief from the aching drag of guilt and grief.
Until she’d realized she felt lonelier waking up with a man than without one. No matter what pleasure her partners gave her, she could never really connect with them. They were human, and she could never be anything but Sidhe.
But Rhys wasn’t human. With Rhys, it didn’t have to be meaningless.
“Drop your ward and let me try?” he asked.
Olivia nodded mutely and reached out to touch the ward, willing it to collapse. It did, leaving a void in her consciousness. “Give it a go.”
Rhys leaned forward and spread his fingers on the wall, his eyes drifting closed. His full lips tightened, making her imagine what he would taste like.
Power shot from his fingers, tracing the length of the wall, spreading outward and upward and down into the earth. Olivia felt the spell shoot around the house, much more powerful than her own ward. “That’s a little too strong. It would wake you up every time a leaf blew against it.”
“Ah. Okay, let me try that again.” He drew the magic back out of the ward, then spun it out again. The air filled with the smell of ozone and something that reminded her of sandalwood on a cool night wind. The muscles of his angular face tightened in concentration as his eyes narrowed.
Again, she saw that flash of gold across his irises, a marked contrast to his normal amber.
When he dropped his hand and turned to her, a pleased boy’s smile spread over his mouth. “How about that?”
Goddess, he looked so tall and broad and powerful. So profoundly male. Arousal surged through her in a ravenous wave, more intense than anything she’d ever felt before.
This isn’t right, an uneasy mental voice whispered. She never went up in flames this fast. And certainly not to a man who’d just invaded her mind with a spell.
He went very still then, as if something in her eyes had given her away. His pupils flared gold and his carnal lips parted . . .
Before Olivia even knew what she was doing, she’d plastered herself full-length against him. He stiffened in astonishment, might even have pulled away . . . Except she covered his mouth with hers, kissed him with heat and greed, enjoying the blend of spices and ozone . . .
And felt something darker, something wilder she didn’t recognize at all.
Something she craved. Forgetfulness. A moment’s peace and pleasure. An escape from the guilt and loneliness . . . With a moan of delight, she opened even wider.
* * *
Rhys tensed, shock rolling through him. What the hell was she doing?
A moment later, he didn’t care. His consciousness was full of Olivia, the soft weight and pressure of her breasts against his chest, her cool hands cupping his face as her mouth moved urgently over his. Her taste filled his senses with a delicious little crackle and tingle flavored with Riesling and the fresh, sharp taste of ozone.
Rhys loved women. There were times when the only distraction he could find from the pressure to succeed was in the body of women. He was nobody’s idea of inexperienced.
And yet no one’s mouth had ever tasted like Olivia’s. As if she fit him somehow, matched him perfectly on some level. Even physically; he had to stoop to kiss most women in an uncomfortable contortion of his far taller body. Yet Olivia could reach his mouth in flats.
And he could reach hers.
His hands came up, closing around her shoulders, pulling her tight, the better to feel the firm, lithe strength of her body. It seemed the only soft parts of her were those tempting breasts.
He didn’t feel he had to hold back with her, didn’t have to worry that with his greater strength he’d hurt her. He remembered the way she’d leaped and spun with that sword in her hand.
Olivia wouldn’t break.
That had been his fear with every women he’d dated since he was seventeen. He’d never injured anyone badly, but he’d inflicted bruises more than once before learning the art of sensual delicacy.
Olivia was no stranger to that particular art, either. Her long fingers traced the contours of his jaw, the tendons working along the line of his throat. Then they slid down to explore his chest, the width of his shoulders, the thick contours of muscle and bone.
She rolled her hips against him, her belly pressing deliciously against his erection. Rhys found the curve of her ass, cupped her hips, caressed and stroked. She drew back from his mouth, just far enough to gasp. “I need you.”
The only response he could manage was a groan.